


and it’s all in the name of love

by ShirosRedKnight (SweetFanfics)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: M/M, and i'll wax so much poetic about 'em fam, giant space birds that fly in cosmic storms, one day i'll write space whales, resolution of mutual pining, the gang's all here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-19
Updated: 2016-12-19
Packaged: 2018-09-09 22:07:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8914768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetFanfics/pseuds/ShirosRedKnight
Summary: Out of the corner of his eye, Shiro sees him struggling to formulate the right words to express the magnitude of this sight. See’s the amazed sparkle in Keith’s eyes, the plushness of his bottom lip forming a perfect ‘o’ and forgets about the alien that's rarely ever seen even by the people who dwell in the space between stars and planets. He squeezes Keith’s hand back, huskily says “I know.” Shiro isn’t talking about the alien at all.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by these wonderful fanarts ([twitter](https://mobile.twitter.com/JohannaTheMad/status/770779492075778052) \- [tumblr](https://shirosredknight.tumblr.com/post/149763779410/johannathemad-its-love-isnt-it)) by johannathemad
> 
>  

They’re the only ones left on the viewing deck, mirroring postures, seated across from each other on the window sill in comfortable silence.

 

Shiro stares out the tinted window with intense concentration, watching the space storm change colors lazily as it drifts in between stars. Rather than measuring the degree to which he’d need to flex his knee to tap it against Keith’s, Shiro contemplates the flash of light in the heart of the storm. A pink heart in the middle of a sea of a deep purple-blue. Instead of staring at Keith’s bared stomach (damn that crop top hoodie) or his legs defined by his tight yoga pants, Shiro keeps his eyes peeled for the bird-like creatures Coran said live in these storms.

 

They’re the reason they’ve been camped out in this viewing deck in the first place. They'd all sat and waited for the creatures to show but after many hours of waiting, the others have trickled away to bed. Leaving Shiro and Keith alone in their vigil. 

 

“Hey,” Keith’s knee presses against his, lean strength asking for his attention. Shiro glances over, follows the finger Keith’s got pressed against the glass “Is that it?”

 

Squinting into the heart of the storm, Shiro still sees nothing but multi-hued star dust and smoke. “Where?”

 

“You see that blue part that looks like a duck?” He needs to tilt his head for that but Shiro sees it. “Under the beak.”

 

He stares and stares and stares. Holds his breath when he sees _something_ peek through the dense storming cloud. Across from him, he hears Keith suck in a quick, shocked breath. “Whoa.”

 

They move as one, knees knocking and limbs tangling, pressing their faces against the thick glass like children standing in front of a candy store. Hold their breath in anticipation and are rewarded by the sight of a creature unfurling itself from the depths of the storm. It's _huge_. Easily as big as the castle. It’s many ruby-red eyes glimmer, rolling this way and that before noticing the castle.

 

Shiro holds his breath, wondering if it can see them watching it in awe. He feels slim fingers wrapping around his arm, shaking ever so slightly in their excitement. Shiro grins, too big too happy, and turns the grip around so that he can link their fingers together and squeeze Keith’s hand back.

 

“This is so…” Keith starts and stops.

 

Out of the corner of his eye, Shiro sees him struggling to formulate the right words to express the magnitude of this sight. See’s the amazed sparkle in Keith’s eyes, the plushness of his bottom lip forming a perfect ‘o’ and forgets about the alien that's rarely ever seen even by the people who dwell in the space between stars and planets. He squeezes Keith’s hand back, huskily says “I know.”

 

Shiro isn’t talking about the alien at all.

 

Keith’s delighted bright eyes meet his for a second that last an eternity inside Shiro. Turn back to the window, widening. Shiro blinks and glances back out, feels his own eyes widen when he realizes there’s _more_ of the creatures.

 

“It’s a flock of them,” Shiro breathes out, watching more of the creatures slip out of the storm, star dust trailing behind their translucent wings.

 

They sit like that for what feels like hours, holding onto each others hand while watching the aliens catch the storm under their wings and turn it into colorful plumes of dust across open space.

 

At some point, they move to lean against each other, shoulder to shoulder, fingers still linked. Quiet. Contemplative. Committing the moment and its many facets to memory. Shiro’s focus strains between remembering the exact color of the alien’s wings and the roughness of Keith’s fingertips against his. Hates that Keith's wearing gloves and hates that he can't hear what kind of noises these birds must make. Finds his breath catching when Keith thoughtlessly links their fingers together with an awed inhale, and again when the birds twist and turn in an elaborate pattern.

 

Both things are so important but he only has so much attention to spare.

 

Eventually, the alien birds begin to drift away, the storm fading away in wispy plumes. They leave behind a magnificent display of pink, purple, blue luminescence for them to admire. Shiro wishes he had a camera to capture the beautiful sight.

 

“The others are gonna regret missing out on this when we tell them,” Keith murmurs.

 

Humming in agreement, Shiro begins to stand up. He winces as the pins and needles hits, making him grab Keith’s shoulder with a startled grunt, who is mid-way through straightening up as well. Keith’s hand grabs him back, fingers digging into the meat of Shiro’s arm. His surprised look turns into amusement.

 

He knows what’s happened. Shiro grins back, helpless in more ways than one. Leaning against each other, sensation begins to return to Shiro’s legs but he holds still to prevent the prickly pain. But there's another reason to hold so still. A more important one.

 

Keith’s fingers trace the swell of Shiro’s bicep, testing the boundaries they’ve been dancing around for weeks. There’s a steadiness in his gaze that twists Shiro’s insides with nervous hope. It’s a far cry from the hollow look he’d caught Keith giving him at the start of their adventure. When Shiro had wondered what the look was about, lacking understanding. It was sister to the contemplative confused half-scowl he’d lock Shiro down with after Shiro realized his feelings. Quietly but openly asking Shiro what kind of game he was playing.

 

This look however? It’s acceptance. That whatever signal’s hes been catching for Shiro, haven’t been his imagination. That whatever meaning he's intuited from them? They were right.

 

Shiro tries to breath, wondering if Keith will call him out for his cowardly inability to give voice to his feelings. Why had he thought it’d be easier to _imply_ what he feels instead of saying it?  _Oh right_ , Shiro thinks dizzily as Keith slides forward the final few inches. _Because this is scary_. Putting himself out there? Uncupping his hands to reveal his delicate butterfly heart with torn wings and faded colors? Is _scary_.

 

Scarier because it’s Keith. Precious, wonderful, frustrating, Keith. His best friend for years and right hand man.

 

And yet nothing has ever felt so _right_ as closing the distance between them, connecting their lips in a lingering, _hungry_ kiss. Shiro’s fears roll down his back and onto the floor, replaced with cool heat.

 

Keith’s lips part in a soft whimper, an open invitation Shiro accepts. He tangles a hand in Keith’s hair while running the tip of his tongue against Keith’s top lip. A puff of humid air streaks past his cheek. Shiro shivers, palms the small of Keith’s back and pulls him closer. Other hand tangling into Keith’s hair. Another whimper and Keith digs his nails into Shiro’s arm. The tension that’s been gathering between his shoulder blades flees. As he relaxes, Shiro softens the kiss. Less desperate and more… more…

 

His thoughts scatter with the wind. Floating away as Keith’s hands slide up to cup the underside of his jaw, cradling Shiro’s face. Preciously. Delicately. Like he’s a treasure to be handled with care.

 

Keith’s careful hands catch his heart, tattered wings and all.

 

Acceptance has never felt this fulfilling.

 

Shiro needs to pull away, lungs burning and emotions overflowing. He keeps his eyes shut, trying to shake apart when he feels Keith’s nose bump against his own.

 

“I’ve been waiting so long for that,” Keith confesses in a soft whisper.

 

Guilt, as sudden and quick as the flash of a cats claws, cuts him. “I’m sorry.” _for taking so long for making you wait for not realizing sooner you were what i wanted._

 

He can’t bring himself to open his eyes. Not even when Keith’s fingertips touch his cheek. “You didn’t know,” Keith murmurs. There’s forgiveness offered to him and Shiro can’t bring himself to accept it. Not yet. It's a gift Shiro doesn't feel worthy of. Not yet.

 

Instead, Shiro turns his head to nuzzle Keith’s fingers. And finally opens his eyes, half-mast. Memorizes the warm color across Keith’s cheekbones. Learns what passion and love-based happiness look on the younger man’s face. And feels so completely smitten (and _proud_ because  _he's_ the reason that look came into being).

 

Shiro smiles, a little goofy and mostly helpless. “Can I walk you back to your room?”

 

Keith returns the smile with the same happy sentiment at the core. Holds his hand out for Shiro to take. “Yeah.”

 

–-

 

The next day dawns like any other day. 

 

Shiro wakes up, goes through his morning exercise routine, takes a shower, and heads to the dining room for breakfast. Only difference this morning is that he’s too distracted remembering the softness of Keith’s thin lips. Shiro's embarrassed to admit he's zoned out at least three times while getting ready, happily losing himself in the memories of last night.

 

He sits at the table, covers his mouth with his fingers, and exhales softly. Sinks his teeth into his top lip to replicate the gentle bite Keith had given him and shivers. Closes his eyes with a tiny laugh. How had he ever thought he _didn’t_ have it _so bad_  for Keith?

 

“What’s so funny?” Lance’s curious voice asks from his side.

 

Jerking in his seat, Shiro turns to eye the blue paladin standing beside him with a bowl of green food goo in hand, “Uh, nothing important.”

 

Lance’s eyes narrow immediately, weighing Shiro’s words before shrugging, “Whatever. Oh, do you know what’s up with Keith? I just saw him acting all weird.”

 

Years of lying through his teeth to his parents face comes in handy when he keeps a straight face to ask, “What kind of weird?” 

 

Pointing at the door, Lance answers, “He’s out there pacing with a totally red face. Keeps covering his mouth and muttering something. Can't tell what though. Told me to take a hike when I asked him what was wrong. Did something happen last night that's making him act like a total weirdo?”

 

Warmth pools in his chest as the memory of their kiss(es) pops up in his mind. Shiro clears his throat and shakes his head, telling himself he’s _technically_  not lying when he says, “We just saw those _thoveeld_  aliens Coran told us about.”

 

The doors open with a quiet _woosh_. Hope and eager anticipation makes his heart race and happiness makes it skip a beat when he sees Keith walking in. _He looks so good_ , Shiro thinks mushily, lips quirking up in a helpless half-smile.  

 

Keith’s eyes meet his for a split second. Soft pink color blooms on his cheek before he greets the pair, “Morning.”

 

After a beat of internal flailing (how did he use to greet Keith before?), Shiro echoes the greeting. The door opens again, bringing a sleepy Pidge and yawning Hunk with it. More greetings are exchanged before Lance asks, “So, what were those aliens like?”

 

“Space birds,” Keith answers, pushing a bowl of green goo in front of Shiro before sitting down beside him. “Giant space birds with eyes like spiders.”

 

“And dragonfly wings,” Shiro adds, working the spoon around the goo before taking a bite.

 

Lance pulls a face before muttering something like ‘eldritch abomination’ under his breath. Shiro misses it entirely because Keith’s knee bumps into his under the table, stealing his breath and attention in one fell swoop. He ducks his head to take another bite, but his eyes slide to Keith. Who is casually answering the others questions, like he didn’t just move his bare foot to press so casually against Shiro’s. Like he didn’t just wreck Shiro’s concentration with one innocent move.

 

 _God I’m in too deep_ , Shiro thinks, trying to calm the frenetic pounding of his heart before deciding to join the conversation. 

**Author's Note:**

> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


End file.
